I Am Broken
by IridescentInTheDark
Summary: He was broken, falling through the darkness after the world descended into war once again. But Draco had enough hope in him to do one last good thing, and that was to save Hermione Granger. One-shot Dramione.


**This was not one of the Dramione one-shots I have planned. It kinda just came to me when ready a dark Dramione the other day – don't remember which one. Ah well, please enjoy and tell me what you think. XD**

**I Am Broken**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine… but I wouldn't mind getting my hands on Draco Malfoy. XD**

…

"_Sometimes it takes losing someone, or to think you're losing someone, to see who you really are."_

…

He had loved her for years, always keeping his distance, always keeping her safe from the prying eyes of his father's violent bigotry. Draco Malfoy had contemplated being nicer to Hermione Granger about fourth year, considering it was getting harder to force the insults past his lips, but images of his father berating him, and throwing dark curses at him stopped that idea before it even got started. After the Dark Lord had returned, Draco used the ensuing duties assigned to him to ease off his assault of Hermione's person and his inactions went unpunished – following that stupid Umbridge woman around like he cared about punishing stupid first years helped as well.

But now that the world was falling apart around him, he had lost the heart to care. What could he possibly do that would change things now? Voldemort had won, Harry Potter had died, but the Wizarding world was still at war. They were all fighting right now, everywhere – in every crevasse, in every country, and in every Wizarding community. The death of their shining hope was supposed to kill their fight, or so Tom Riddle had anticipated, but it only drove them on harder.

The problem was that Draco couldn't tell who was winning. Immediately after helping the Order at the battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoy family was hunted down by Death Eaters; Lucius died while trying to run, leaving his family behind, and Narcissa attempted to shelter her only son, getting an Avada Kedavra over the heart for her trouble. But the father of one of Draco's best friends had been convinced to spare the youngest Malfoy.

So Draco had been on the run, not knowing where to go, what to do or who to go to. Everyone he cared about was dead, and he was of no use to the Order when they finally found him, broken and messed up – in a ditch in the Muggle world of all places, he'd been found by one Ginerva Weasley, the only redheaded blood traitor left in the world.

Hermione was dead… to him. He had heard she was taken prisoner by Macnair and no-one survived long with that brute. But the Order had received news, a small hope that Granger had actually been spared and was currently the favourite torture plaything. So Draco followed that lead, then the next and the next… he didn't want to stop looking for her. His heart couldn't take it if the rumours weren't true. After all this time, thinking she was gone, and wanting to die himself, that tiny spark of hope would not fade. He didn't want it to.

It was how he'd found himself running away from home… well, away from the Malfoy manor. No Malfoy had stepped foot in it for the two years since Draco had watched as his parents were murdered. It had been a year since the final member of the Golden Trio had disappeared without a trace, six months since the first rumour that she was indeed still alive, and several weeks since Draco had last heard a rumour pertaining to her location.

Running away from Malfoy manor – complete with a new Anti-Disapparition Jinx that only allowed Voldemort to apparate through (and house-elves, really…) – Draco could hear them coming for him. He stumbled, but forced himself to keep running. He wasn't entirely sure which direction he was headed in, or how far he'd have to go to get past the wards, but the incessant cat calling of the Death Eaters pursuing him were incentive to _try_. At least it hadn't been a waste of time – he knew where she was, and the pathetic excuse for a manor house that belonged to what was left of the Lestrange family was just one apparate away. He picked up the pace trying to get past the boundary of the Anti-Disapparition Jinx before the Death Eaters could get to him.

A moment later, Draco felt a familiar prickling sensation – even with the new wards around Malfoy manor, only a Malfoy would feel the edge of the wards: it was in his blood after all. So, steeling himself, he stopped running, took a deliberate step forward and then spun on his heels, disappearing out of Death Eater view.

**-oOo-**

The first Avada Kedavra seemed to come out of nowhere. They hadn't been expecting him and by the time they collectively raised their wands toward the invader, they were already falling like dominoes. Draco showed them no mercy, casting the killing curse left, right, and centre. He didn't even stop to take in the faces – they were all faceless to him. They were all guilty in his eyes and didn't deserve the benefit of imprinting their identities on him as he killed them. As the only way to counter the killing curse was another Avada Kedavra, he didn't need to duck or weave in fear of retribution.

Draco ran through the foyer, sweeping his wand arm in an upward motion to hit the Death Eaters on the second floor balcony overlooking the ground floor and again, and again and again until they were in no position to keep firing back. The commotion had more running toward them and they managed to get off a few shots, to no avail of course. By the time he located the dungeons, he had killed more Death Eaters than any other member of the Order. He didn't care that it was an unforgivable curse, he didn't care that his soul was now as tainted as theirs. He _needed_ to find Hermione and get her out of here: _that_ was what mattered.

The stone walls greeted him and the last few steps toward her cell were the hardest in his life. Suddenly, the life went out of him and he stumbled instead of walking; he lowered his wand but gripped it tightly in his trembling hand.

He remembered now, where he had gone wrong. The slightly emaciated form of Hermione Granger looked up at him curiously without moving from her sitting position. As those brown eyes of hers studied him, he took in the deplorable state of her clothes, the fact that she'd clearly been abused, and the strength that still hardened her eyes.

She was absolutely beautiful to him.

But he'd just killed indiscriminately and the image he'd conjured in his mind of running away from this place, with her in his arms, was frozen. He couldn't raise his wand to open the door, and instead, slid down the wall opposite her to fall to the floor. But he never took his eyes off the Gryffindor princess. She was supposed to win, to beat Voldemort, and save everyone. Draco had never seen anyone more pathetic than what Granger looked like right now, while still managing to make his heart leap into his throat. She had lost, she was on the verge of death so what good was she to anyone?

"You were supposed to win, Granger," he mumbled, ignoring the questioning look on his face. "You were supposed to win," he repeated. "How could anyone ever be free, how am I supposed to be free, if _he's_ still around. I was banking on the idiot trio coming out of this heroes. You'd kill him and the rest of us… we could be free…" Draco looked up and was not surprised that the strangely curious look was slightly piteous. "Why didn't you win? Why is Potter dead? And why do I have all these… _feelings_?"

He needed her to tell him he was insane.

"I don't know what you're talking about Malfoy. If you came here to kill me, then I suggest you just do it."

He smiled at this. "No, I didn't come here to kill you, though admittedly, death feels a particularly beautiful idea right now."

Hermione stood up weakly and walked over to the bars of her cage. "Did you really help the Order?"

He nodded, now lowering his gaze to the floor.

"You don't have to give up," she said, running her hands over the steel of her bars. "Break me out of here, take me with you. We can go somewhere else, where the Order is still fighting. If you're so desperate to die Draco, don't you think it'd be better to go out the right way?"

He took in her malnourished form again, his eyes raking over the obvious signs of torture – the Death Eaters used Muggle means to torture mudbloods, blood traitors and Muggles alike; the Cruciatus Curse wasn't reserved for anyone in particular, and it really came down to the personal preference of the torturer.

"Draco," she pleaded. "Let me go."

He glared at her venomously. "I'm not the one who incarcerated you, don't say it like that."

"Then why are you here?"

He licked his lips. "I came here to save you."

"Then save me."

He stood up and raised his wand. "Stand to the side."

He blew open the door to her cell, cast Relashio on her manacles and held out his hand for her to take. They ran out of the mansion, Hermione gasping at the dead surrounding them and past the wards. It wasn't until they were far away that he started to relax and the exhaustion set in on the witch by his side. He caught her as she swayed, lifting her up bridal style as they approached one of the safe houses for the Order.

The house was a Muggle one, just protected with the strongest enchantments the Order knew. There was no-one else here – it was just a safe house for those in the know, not headquarters, nor owned by anyone, really. Draco carried Hermione up the internal staircase of the small house and into one of the tidier bedrooms that had an adjoining bathroom. First things first: she needed to get cleaned up.

She shifted in his arms and whispered "thank you" before falling asleep, her head against his chest.

Those simple words set his heart fluttering and he had to remind himself she was weakened and probably wouldn't appreciate it if he kissed her right now, let alone gave into the sudden urge to ravish her slight form. The metaphorical blood of the Death Eaters he had slain were still a stain on him and he didn't want it to rub off on her. He placed her gently on the bed and moved into the bathroom to start the water. He was still numb from what he'd done but now, he hoped, he could finally let go of the shackles that had been binding him since he'd gone cold.

Not a night went by that he didn't dream of their deaths, his mother's mostly, as his father had tried to abandon them to save himself. In the end, what did it matter if they ran or stood tall? This world was never going to get along – even if the Order and the countless foreign wizards and witches managed to kill Voldemort, someone else would just take his place.

Draco was musing, skimming his fingers over the hot water, when he heard Hermione leave the bed and come up behind him. He stood and turned to face her in time to watch as she shrugged off the pitiful clothes she'd been forced to wear. She stood in front of him, in all her naked glory, and he couldn't stop himself from soaking in the sight. It was like he'd thought – despite her injuries and malnourishment, he still found her attractive. Hell, she could be mangled and he'd still want to fuck her right here and now.

She walked up to him. "Thank you Draco," she said, bringing her lips to his.

He thought about that plea from his friend – the plea that saved his life when his parents were murdered in front of him: it was also the voice that told him where to find the beautiful woman now undressing him so that they could bathe together. Draco pushed harder into the kiss, wishing away the images of their falling bodies. Once they'd pulled away, both breathless and smiling, he murmured in her ear. "Thank Pansy Parkinson for keeping us both alive."

**-oOo-**

**I think I edited that well enough, but if anyone saw a mistake, let me know and I'll fix it. I'm a natural perve, so the lack of a lemon surprised me: it just seemed to flow that way... maybe next time. ^^ And, please don't fav without leaving a review! XD**


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